Circumstantial Evidence
by Sixth Night
Summary: The underbelly of Port Charles was never pretty. A string of murders hits close to home, changing lives in its wake. [Several pairings, namely Liason.]


**Notes:** I figured I should add some notes beforehand so no one gets the wrong idea and clicks that little x before reading ;) This is _not_ a Jason/OC pairing. Not at all. I plan on a little of my favorite pairing: Liason. There will be a lot of other pairings, too, following GH tradition. And just to get the timeline straight, I'm going back in time a ways. Before any reconciliation between Sam and Jason, because I have better things in mind.

* * *

The residue shifted in the changing pressure the minute the door swung open. She could sense that much. She could all but hear it swirl in the disturbed environment, tracing across the boxes and concrete floors to the brink of nonexistence. Such delicate things were not to be toyed with. With trepidation, the brunette propped the door just enough to gain access to the damp inner sanctum. With the door carefully closed, she felt the weight lift at once. She was alone now, with her scene. No one could intrude on this intimate dance with evidence and passion. Well, that wasn't true. The detectives and uniforms could certainly put a damper on her party. 

Hazel irises flickered over the murky warehouse, flared nostrils sampling the scent of decay and murder. _What a combination_, she thought while inspecting the settings and committing them to memory and film. The flash of her camera ignited the room, bathing it in sickly, pale light. In the flash, a gleam caught her eye. Slowly, she crept toward the point of the object which had shone. The tap of her heels resonated, bouncing from wall to wall and disturbing her silence. None of that mattered when she caught sight of the diamond earring resting peacefully atop a box in the corner.

Once confident the box held no other evidence, she set her case down while securing her camera strap to ensure her camera would not fall from her shoulder. A shudder raked down her spine, realizing this earring came with a small amount of blood. After photographing the earring, she slipped it into a plastic bag with a pair of tweezers, and set off for the remainder of the shadowy crime scene. For her first case here in Port Charles, she was quite confident she already knew the seedy secrets hidden beneath the demure façade.

…

Several hours later, a detective looking rather foreign burst in on her just as she was tidying up a few last bits of evidence. Hairs, fingerprints, earrings… what a treasure trove she'd fallen into. "You've some pretty bold criminals here in Port Charles," she commented, glancing up at the detective.

"Yeah, that's one thing we're looking to change," he replied.

"Well, I will certainly do my best," she said with a smile quite strange in the face of death. There was no body, of course, but this entire warehouse reeked of death. Not only the latest murder, but many preceding. Using her wrist to avoid the touch of latex, she brushed tousled curls behind her shoulders.

"You really are… eh, passionate." The discomfort in his voice betrayed him. Clearly, he'd not met many women so comfortable around this sort of thing. Perhaps that was to be expected, there were few women on staff at P.C.P.D.

She packed her things away, and stood weighted down by her large case. She offered her hand out to this detective when she neared him, "Sorano Alden," she said. A bright smile creased dimples into her pale cheeks.

"Detective Rodriguez," he replied, taking her hand with a light shake.

"I see… we're not on first name basis. Well then, Rodriguez, I'll get out of your hair. Enjoy," she said jokingly, hauling her things out the steel door. He seemed shy.

- - -

Sleep was an elusive thing. It simply would not come to him, no matter how many sheep leapt over his bed to be counted. Elizabeth had left just two hours earlier, claiming that she needed to gather her things while she was sure Lucky would be sleeping. As if his lack of slumber were broadcasted on the waves of the radio, a timid knock came at the door. He stood from the couch; half hoping Elizabeth would appear behind the door. No such luck. As he brought the door away, Sam stormed in rather dramatically.

With a sigh, Jason closed the door behind him and turned to Sam, arms crossed over his chest. She seemed to have lost her nerve, black eyes settled on him, dancing with an ocean of tears. _Not again_, he thought before scolding himself for being so dismissive of her. But the constant crying was really beginning to wear on him. It boasted only weakness and dependency, not signs of a strong woman.

"I have to tell you something," she said gently, eyes unwavering.

"What is it?" he asked, knowing full well she'd come to confess her tryst with Ric.

"Jason I…" she began, but her voice faltered as one tear slipped quickly down her cheek. "I slept with Ric."

"I know," he said monotonously.

"You know?" She looked at him incredulously, as if he'd grown a third eye. "What do you mean you know?"

"I went to the lake house. I saw you with Ric," he replied.

"I don't understand. What were you doing?" Another question of disbelief. Did he need to repeat that?

"I came to tell you that I might have been wrong about pushing you away…" he said dejectedly, averting his eyes to the floor.

"You… you came to get back…" she silenced herself with the realization, the words dying upon her tongue. A pain so dire washed over her, a blade through her soul.

"None of it matters now," he remarked, his voice as disconsolate as a winter landscape.

"Jason, yes it does!" she exclaimed, nearly grabbing onto him. He moved away from her, keeping out of her reach.

"You betrayed me, I betrayed you. There's nothing left _to_ matter."

"You betrayed me?" she said, jerking her head back in wonder.

"Elizabeth was here," he shook his head, preparing for the outburst.

"Oh, so you slept with _her_? Kinda funny that we both… oh god." The dam finally broke, cascading tears streaming trails of salted water down her sun kissed cheeks. Mascara smudged beneath her lashes, but she smeared it further with a fisted hand. "We're beyond reconciliation," she stated dully.

"You should go," he said. With that, he turned and opened the door. Sam looked to him with pleading eyes, eyes that never seemed to be without tears. Still, he held firm and she shuffled through the door glaring daggers at him.

As if he hadn't had enough insomnia. Stuffing his wallet into his back pocket, he waited long enough to avoid Sam and headed down the stair well, down the lengthy flight of stairs until he met the landing and fled the building. There was only one place to go.

Jake's was unusually crowded. Then again, it was usually bustling whenever the girls decided to get together and down Tequila like there would be no tomorrow. He winced when they cheered before the next round, but settled in unnoticed. The last thing he wanted was the attention of Emily. Unsurprisingly, Elizabeth was not with them.

It was just his luck that nearly all the tables were taken. Why tonight, of all nights? He spotted an empty chair, but the table happened to be occupied. A laptop sat, the screen guarding all but the top of a brunette head. Well, if he planned on having a drink, standing in the corner didn't seem to fit well. He pushed through the mingled citizens and peered over the computer into an anomalous pair of hazel eyes.

"Do you mind if I sit?" he asked, trying his best not to seem as if he were trying to make a pass. He certainly was not.

"Not at all. There really aren't any free seats," the woman replied.

Before he'd formulated any response, Coleman was beside him with a funny look. However much the look bothered him, he simply ordered a beer. When his beer finally arrived, he noticed the woman typing in a frenzy, fingers dancing at lightning speed across the keyboard, or at least it sounded that way. She was obviously quite enveloped in whatever she was working on. What an odd place to work.

After a moment of contemplation, he noticed the clatter of keys from the keyboard came to an end. Blinking once or twice to refocus his eyes from the zone of half-consciousness he'd fallen into, he found hazel eyes staring at him with question. It occurred to him that he'd been staring at her. Well, not really at her, but through her. Nevertheless, she probably felt he'd been staring.

"Sorry," he muttered while averting his eyes.

"Everything okay?" she asked. It struck him odd that a stranger would care, but false concern was a specialty in women around these parts.

"Yeah," he said almost inaudibly.

"You're Jason Morgan…" she said this as if the realization had just dawned on her.

"I am," he replied, half worried about what that meant. Defensively, and quite instinctively he said, "So?"

"I haven't been called that in years. And I don't believe we've met," she stated. She sounded impatient.

For a moment, he didn't understand. She must have been nicknamed So, and she assumed he was calling her that as if remembering her. Apparently, they hadn't met. He couldn't recall meeting her, and she stated that fact herself. "We… haven't."

"Then why do you seem to … nevermind," she quickly bit her lip, completely embarrassed. She made a note to torture her mother later on; the name could be such a burden. "You said… so, as in so what," she clarified.

"Yeah," he nodded.

"Kids used to call me So when I was young. I don't remember meeting you prior to this evening, but you can see where my confusion came in."

He said nothing. The mouth of the green tainted bottle rose to his lips, a healthy swig of amber liquid flooding his awaiting mouth. The brunette sat unmoving, watching him intently. Was there something mesmerizing about the way he drank beer?

"What?" he asked, setting the bottle on the table while looking toward her.

This time, she remained silent. She went back to typing away, ignoring the way he all but inhaled the rest of his drink. She was an odd woman, to say the least.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Writing," she replied with a slight smile. Her eyes lifted, focusing on him while her fingers continued across the keys. Quite honestly, that disturbed him for some inexplicable reason. "I like to write fiction to soothe away the reality of life."

"Isn't that kind of…" he searched his mind for the correct word, not wanting to offend her completely.

"Cowardly?" she offered the word he'd been wanting to say, letting up on the keys while running her fingers back through her hair with an audible sigh.

"Not quite the word I was looking for, but yeah."

"I suppose it is," she responded, dropping her hands into her lap. "My job's a little heavy and provides some strange ideas for fictional writing. It just helps… I can't really explain it."

"Heavy?" he questioned, nodding thanks to Coleman as another beer appeared on the table, top off.

"A lot of death and blood…" she gave an uncomfortable laugh, no doubt realizing that he of all people would know precisely how that went.

_What on earth does she do? _he thought. "Oh." Without another word, he resumed paying his dues to the bottle of beer on the table. The silence hung over the table thicker perhaps than the smoke that lingered as well.

"Not that I don't just love awkward encounters, but I think my time's up here," she said. The blue glow settled on her features faded out and she quickly closed the laptop and slipped it into a leather carrying case.

"Okay," he said passively. He watched with little interest as she rose let elegant steps lead her through the door. At that moment, Carly moved through the crowd to steal the seat recently vacated. He didn't even know she'd come back from Cairo.

"Who was that?" she asked loudly. Always curious, and forever threatened by any woman within a mile of him. But her intentions were good, and that's what mattered.

"I have no idea," he replied honestly.

"Oh… okay," she seemed put off by that. He knew she'd find out soon enough. She always made it her business to know the comings and goings of Port Charles. "So, I talked some sense into Jax," she boasted.

Jason heard her, sure enough, but his mind was anywhere but on Carly. For some reason, he simply could not get Elizabeth out of his thoughts. He wondered if she'd been able to pack her things and leave Lucky. Would she come by again?

"Jason?" Carly titled her head, looking at him suspiciously.

"That's good…" he replied half-heartedly.

"What's going on?" she asked, blue eyes burning into him.

"Nothing…"

"Things didn't go well with Sam, did they?" she asked inquisitively.

"Not really, but I need to go."

"Where?"

"Carly, please…" he pleaded. She knew better than to persist when he wanted peace and quiet. Yet, she'd do just that: persist.

"I can't just let you go like this!"

"I'll be fine. Don't worry about me; just go take care of Jax."

"You sure you'll be okay?"

"Yeah," he replied. With that, he dismissed himself from the table, and headed out into the lukewarm air.

When he finally awoke on the couch the next morning, Jason found the penthouse was unnervingly silent. Already, he felt as if it were empty. Rather than dwell on such that fact, he leaned over, reaching for the remote. A press of a button brought the television to life, but before he could settle on a channel, a knock came at the door. Glancing in the direction of the door, he idly wondered who would come by.

He dreaded Carly and her inquisitive questions. He dreaded Sam and her constant emotional battery. He again hoped it might be Elizabeth. However, he headed for the door with trepidation, nervously reaching for the knob.

- - -

No amount of rationalizing could have explained her arrival at his door. One minute, she was unpacking. The next, she was at his door without a clue as to how she got there. Clear signs of emotional trauma. She fidgeted with the hem of her pea coat, fighting the urge to turn and leave.

The urge dissipated when the door swung open. Soft, blue eyes greeted her and for a moment, she thought he look relieved.

"Elizabeth," he said through a smile.

"Good morning?" Not a greeting, exactly. She wasn't sure, but it looked as if he'd just begun the day.

"I slept late."

"I guess." She eased through the door when he stepped back, inviting her in with a gesture. "I got my things to Gram's house."

"That's good."

They sat in unison, Elizabeth sinking comfortably into the soft cushions. "Yeah, it is. You look tired; did you have a late night?"

"I couldn't sleep."

"Something happen with Sam?"

"I don't think there's much left for us…"

"Jason," she began, sighing, "I'm sorry if any of this is my-"

"Don't. It's not your fault. I don't even know if I could have gotten past what happened with Ric."

"I'm sorry…"

"Don't be."

"I can't help but feel like life is just spinning out of control."

He laughed thinly, "I know how you feel."

"I just wish… I wish there was something stable I could hold onto. Cam… he doesn't need this." She found his eyes, surprised by the warmth radiating even in the cold situation.

Words didn't seem to do much, he had said something about the situation but it didn't register with her the moment he pulled her into an embrace. She melted into him; her head snug beneath his chin and her arms falling into place. _Worth a thousand words_…

- - -

Kelly Lee scribbled notes on the clipboard in front of her, trying to keep worry at bay. She hadn't seen Robin in a while. In fact, she'd missed an entire shift.

"---ly?"

She couldn't quiet the voice in her head… but then, since when did she call her own name? In Patrick- "Oh! Patrick." She faced him, embarrassed.

"Distracted?"

"Worried. Have you seen Robin?"

"I was going to ask you the same thing."

"No… she missed a shift. I've been trying to get a hold of her."

"Damn. I'm gonna check the pier."

"Sure, no problem. Let me know if you find her."

"I will."

Maybe she just needed time to think. Things hadn't been easy on her lately, with little reminders of mortality and life with HIV dancing in her face.

- - -

"Read that report to me one more time…"

"Several night workers reported a female voice from the warehouse. Shouting, screaming, strenuous…"

Rodriguez drowned the rest out, focusing on the evidence gathered. From the way it looked, this seemed to be tied to the mafia. Just what he needed… _but who's the vic?_

* * *

_So, I've been sitting on this a while. Then, as I was watching GH tonight, I came up with some pretty interesting ideas to try with it. As I mentioned in the notes, there will be a lot of Liason in this fic. The timeline will smooth out as I go, it's my own concoction. And we've got a murder mystery on our hands. Small warning, I'll be using a lot of the background characters more heavily. As far as I'm concerned, Milo, Max, and Rodriguez are deserving of a lot more screen time!  
_

_ This is really experimental, but I would love to hear any thoughts. Reviews are splendid!  
_


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